Momentum
Part Two

It was not at all an uncommon occurrence to find Nara Shikamaru sitting in complete silence in a kitchen, a small boy perched on his lap, his beautiful mother leaning over the duo with a pair of scissors and a demonic glint to her eyes. He somehow managed to find himself in this position at least once a month, whenever there was spare time to be had among the three of them, and though it wasn't precisely a painful experience, it was one he didn't care to endure any more often than necessary.

Hair cuts were essential periods of torture that were tolerated only because it would be entirely too troublesome to have waist-length hair. For his part, Shikamaru would have been perfectly content to go to a salon and pay a few yen to have the trimming done for him, and he had for quite a few years, until recently.

More and more, he had found himself wandering to Ino's home when he wasn't away on missions, for more reasons than one. He found her company pleasant, and she kept a nice house. It was always warm and comfortable, which was more of a relief after returning from a mission than most other things could boast of being. There was something to be said for the atmosphere a mother could make for her child, especially when his father was gone.

Expression hardening, Shikamaru glanced down at the crown of blonde hair in his lap, and reached up absently to run one hand down it. Shun was barely five and already he had lost the most important man in his life. Until the day he died, Shikamaru would never forgive the people who had stolen Ino's husband from her. Losing a father was the most devastating thing that could happen to a boy of any age, as he knew damn well. Only too well...

Thinking of Shikato caused a sharp pain in his chest, and he absently reached up to rub it. It still hurt like hell to think of his old man gone, and he'd been killed a month ago. War was hell, no matter how many ways you looked at it, and the outcome was never worth the cost. Too many good men and women had died, and too many more would die still.

His eyes took on weight as he thought of the six months of blood, violence, and pain they had all endured. Everyone had been touched in some way by the war, from the smallest child to the oldest man. Perhaps one of the worst blows had been to Neji, who had been celebrating his wedding on the day the actual war broke out. He knew how much his good friend wanted to be able to defend his country, his wife, his child, but he was unable to. It would be enough to drive a man to something drastic, and he was halfway convinced Neji would, if not for Hinata's steadying presence.

If ever there were two people better suited for one another's temperament, Shikamaru would be hard pressed to find them. Neji and Hinata fit together in a way that he had grown envious of lately, which he wasn't entirely proud of, but he couldn't help his feelings. Dangerous missions where his comrades sometimes died led a man to think of his own mortality, and it reminded him of his childhood ambition to settle down, marry an average woman, and raise an average family.

He would still like to find that someday, but with the current state of the world, it didn't look likely. Families were being torn apart more often than they were being brought together, as was evidenced by Ino's little family. Her husband had been captured by grass nins, tortured, and then sent home as a declaration of war to Konoha. He would never forget the look on Ino's face when she saw him, nor would he be able to erase the memory of her wrapping him up in her arms and sobbing onto his bloodied body while her little boy watched from the doorway.

He could still remember the quick punch to his stomach, the nausea that had rolled over him at the sight. It wasn't just some faceless man who was on the bed. It was Ino's husband, a father, a friend. He had spent countless hours with him, resting, eating, laughing, doing nothing at all...

A part of his soul had been ripped from him when Akimichi Chouji died, and he knew that he would never get it back. A man didn't outlive his father and best friend and come away whole.

Closing his eyes, he dropped his hand to his lap and was silent as Ino continued to trim his hair, deep in her own thoughts. It didn't matter how many ways he tried to distract himself; his thoughts always circled back to this one thing. This utterly pointless, vicious cycle their country had fallen in.

It seemed Konoha existed only to be attacked. They could have their peace for a time, but sooner or later, some country would covet their strength, their influence, and they would challenge it. Usually advances of the sort were quickly quieted, but this time, it wasn't just one country. It was every hidden village, save for the Sand and the Sound. The former did not attack because they were allies, and the latter, no one ever heard from. That was just as well, however. The last thing Tsunade needed was to be plagued with another country breathing down her neck.

They had been in this battle for six months, and there was no end in sight. Though the Sand and Leaf were the two most powerful countries, the smaller ones united were not to be underestimated. Heavy losses had been suffered on all sides already, and just three days ago, Shikamaru had killed two boys who couldn't have been out of their teens.

It weighed heavily on a man's mind.

"Shikamaru-ojisan? Shikamaru-ojisan!"

Pulled abruptly from his thoughts, Shikamaru glanced down into the round, expectant face of his godchild. Eyes so blue that it was startling peered up at him expectantly, narrowed slightly at the sides from being ignored. The expression itself was so reminiscent of one that he often received from the boy's mother that it made Shikamaru smile.

"What do you want, brat?" He teased gently, reaching up to tug on a lock of blonde. "Maybe your mother should cut your hair, too."

A high pitched squeal followed by an abrupt scramble that had the mother in question scolding the both of them was his only reply, and Shikamaru chuckled. If it was possible, Shun was as vain about his hair as Ino was. The pride of his life was his stylish little ponytail.

"Knock it off, you two. I don't want to have to put you both on time-out," Ino threatened, brandishing her scissors and scowling down at them.

"Mom."

"Don't 'mom' me, you little delinquent. You're not too big to be put over my knee."

As their interaction spiraled to a faint hum in the background of his mind, Shikamaru glanced out the window, frowning as he saw the sun sinking into oblivion. He had another mission that he needed to be off on, and the briefing was coming far sooner than he would have liked. It was one thing after another these days.

Absently, he lifted Shun from his lap and set the boy on his feet, not noticing when a wrapper was deposited on his leg in exchange. He merely swept it up with one hand and set it on the counter, brow furrowing more deeply. As soon as he was given all the necessary information from Tsunade, he would leave, and quite possibly never come home. That was the harsh reality that faced every shinobi whenever they accepted a mission.

He wouldn't trade this life of his for the world, but there were times when he was hesitant. The thought of leaving everything that he had behind, at this stage in his life, was more than he wanted to face. Worst, he would be leaving his mother to fend for herself, and she had been a shell of a woman since his father's funeral.

Glancing back toward Ino, respect rose in his chest for her. She was turned away from him, carefully tucking her scissors and comb away so that they would be safe from sticky, curious fingers. When Chouji had died, she'd broken down. For a day, she hadn't been able to do anything but cry. He had thought that she would never recover to who she was, and it had scared him, more than anything. Selfishly, he'd thought only of himself, he had demanded why he should have to lose the two most important people to him in such rapid succession.

Something had changed in her, but not in the way Shikamaru predicted. The next day she rose from her bed a different woman, gathered her child to her, and spit in the face of all her obstacles. Through tragedy her spirit had hardened enough to be the woman she needed to, and from that day forward, Shikamaru had never seen her cry, except once.

When his father died, she had clung to him and sobbed like her heart was breaking. There was something cathartic in crying with a best friend, Shikamaru learned that day. From the simple comfort of her arms, the knowledge that she knew the raw ache of his pain, strength had come to him. He had been able to face his mother and take care of her, had been able to stand straight-backed no matter how he felt inside, and for that, he owed her.

Shikamaru had vowed never to leave Ino and her son to fend for themselves. As long as there was breath in him, he would make life as easy as he could for them. Shun would not grow up without a male influence, and Ino would not break her back to provide for her family.

He loved her. A lot of people told him to just marry her and make it official, but they didn't understand. The feeling went deeper than that for the both of them. Ino was the single most important person in his life now, and he didn't want to change anything about how they were. Marriage... it would be a slap in the face to Chouji's memory, to his pride, to both their honor.

Shikamaru didn't love Ino enough to marry her; he loved her much, much more than that. Sometimes it was worth so much more to be a best friend than a lover, but other people just didn't understand that. They never could. When the time came, he would find a woman to marry, and they would start their own family. That woman had never been Ino, and it never would be.

Rising, he bent at the waist and began to gather his hair to the top of his head, fingers deft and skilled in their motions. He had been doing this for enough years that he could secure a high ponytail with his eyes closed and a few fingers missing, probably. It took him no time at all and he straightened, blinking against the sudden shift in his equilibrium.

Ino was watching him, her eyes solemn as she read deep into the lines of his face. Somehow, she knew that he was going on a mission, though he hadn't breathed a word about it since arriving. He didn't like to upset Shun if at all possible. The knowledge reflected in her face was unmistakable, however, and he didn't waste time explaining.

"I'm going," Shikamaru said bluntly, reaching up to massage the back of his neck.

Ino sighed, wrapping her arms around herself, an age-old gesture. "Be careful."

He nodded, avoiding her gaze as he turned. He was always careful. There was nothing to be gained from what she said, they were just simple words, but somehow, they brought comfort to him. Just as saying them must have put her mind at some ease, he reflected.

"I'll be fine. See you."

He slouched out the doors seconds before bare feet came streaking around a corner, Shun clutching a wrapped parcel to his chest carefully. "Wait! Shikamaru-ojisan! Wait!"

Pausing, Shikamaru glanced over his shoulder and down into the earnest, frightened face. The face of a boy who had seen too many horrible things. Expression softening, he turned fully and dropped to one knee, bringing a hand up to ruffle his hair. "What is it, kid?"

"Take this," Shun said softly, thrusting the bundle at him. "I bought it and didn't tell Mom..."

Frowning, he carefully unwrapped it and found a single kunai nestled inside the cloth folds. When their eyes met, Shun's shone brightly, fear lurking in the backs of them. "Shun..."

"Don't die." The words tumbled from his small mouth quickly even as tears threatened. "Come back home, okay?"

Jaw slackening, Shikamaru stared mutely a second before tugging Shun into a tight embrace. He closed his eyes and prayed that nothing happened to him, if only for this little boy's sake.

When he looked up into Ino's face and saw how pale she was, one hand fisted in front of her mouth, he made a silent promise.

Hell or high water, he would come back to them. There wasn't a damn thing that could deter him when he set his mind to something, and he wouldn't die.

Drawing back, he squeezed Shun's shoulder and nodded, face deadly serious. "Take care of her while I'm gone. I will come back."

Then he rose, turning his back on them as he gripped Shun's gift in one hand. More than anything in his life, at that moment, Shikamaru hated war.

Why couldn't they all just be left in peace?

Genius or not, he knew he would never find an answer to that one simple question.


ojisan: (n) (hon) middle-aged gentleman/uncle

Whoo! Two chapters down. Tenten and Shikamaru will begin to interact eventually, I swear. XD